


Fastest Elf Alive

by Hiver_Frost_Elf



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans (Animated Series), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, Bullying, Commentary, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, HFE experiments again, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Not Canon Compliant, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Indulgent, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 07:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11054259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Frost_Elf/pseuds/Hiver_Frost_Elf
Summary: My name’s Barry Allen, but most people call me Hiver; and by “most people”, I mean Iris, Kenny, and my new friends: the Teen Titans.My mom calls me her little Frost Elf.She's been in prison for my dad's murder since I was eleven, but Iris used her magical science to prove who really killed him.Batman says Mom'll walk free in a flash!





	1. EXTERMINATE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hiver_Frost_Elf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Frost_Elf/gifts).



“I’ll sleep after I finish this page,” an auburn-haired eleven-year-old glued his eyes to the family computer in protest of his bedtime deadline. “The Doctor and Stitch need to help the Avengers save the world from the Daleks or we’ll all be exterminated!!!”

“The Doctor can’t save the day if he’s sleep-deprived,” a redhead tapped his shoulder.

“He’s all set; he only needs… an [hour](http://scifi.stackexchange.com/questions/17390/do-timelords-need-to-sleep) of sleep each day!”

“And you’ll remember that fact much faster tomorrow morning after a good night’s sleep.”

“Technically, one _remembers_ everything,” Barry cited a psychology textbook his babysitter let him borrow.  His eyes continued flitting across the screen as he typed at speeds which a Thunderbird would envy. “What often eludes folks is _recalling_ information.”

Nora chuckled through her nose and kissed her adorable nerd, scanning his tale as she playfully stage-whispered, “I _recall_ a certain little Frost Elf promising to be done for the night after he finished his current page five pages ago.”

His last resort puppy dog pout held no sway over her.  The device shut down with a conclusive thrum as the screen shuttered black.  Barry darted into his room already in his pajamas and eagerly gazed out the window, eyes and grin aglow on sight of snowfall.  His Samoyed plushie, Fuzzy, sat next to him on the windowsill.  As romantic as the notion sounds, the first snow of winter is always the most magical.  Not if merely a few meager flakes appear, mind you, I mean a proper snowfall: one that shrouds the ground and needs corralling away from roads.  That kind of snow rejuvenates the earth, giving it time to heal from trials endured during autumn, summer, and spring.  It’s the kind of snow folks expect on Christmas and on their calendars’ winter months.

Nora followed him in at a relaxed pace.  His coach’s only complaint was that sports and athleticism didn’t interest the fastest kid in gym class.  Nora suspected that the reason for his speed was to escape the clutches of Tony Woodward and other assorted hooligans: today’s injuries blatant evidence of his fear to speak up.

She enticed him to bed with one of his favorite books: _Click Clack Moo, Cows That Type_.  He burrowed under the covers and snuggled up to her.  Fuzzy poked out from underneath the covers safely nestled next to Barry’s chest.  His breath slowed and his eyelids were heavy by the time she finished, “Duck knocked on the door early next morning.  He handed Farmer Brown a note: ‘Dear Farmer Brown, we will exchange our typewriter for electric blankets.  Leave them outside the barn door and we will send Duck over with the typewriter.  Sincerely, The Cows.’  Farmer Brown decided this was a good deal. He left the blankets next to the barn door and waited for Duck to come with the typewriter.  The next morning he got a note: ‘Dear Farmer Brown, The pond is quite boring. We'd like a diving board.  Sincerely, The Ducks.’”

Nora kissed her son and gently maneuvered him onto his pillow.  A man with tangled hair and a clean shave came home an hour later to a mug of hot chocolate freshly brewed for him.  He kissed his wife hello and settled at the kitchen table.  Work was exhausting, especially after needing him for longer than usual today.

Naturally, life pitched him one last curveball, “Barry came home with bruises today.  The administrator called saying several of his classmates saw the usual suspect shove him down the stairs, but when I asked him about it, Barry claimed he tripped.”

So help him, if he heard the name Tony Woodward ever again, he’d renege his promise to do no harm.  Henry massaged his temple and took another sip of his drink to gather his thoughts, “You know why they pick on him all the time.”

Nora ruffled up, “No, I don’t know why so many children in our school district thinks it’s acceptable to bully an intelligent and creative individual.”

“Nora… his best and only non-plush friend is six years older than him, his favorite place to go is home, and his primary hobby is writing stories which require a page to explain!”

“So what if he never becomes prom king?  Popularity fades, Henry.”

“I don’t want him to be lonely….” Henry half-sighed, half-groaned. “My only friend was Joe for the longest time, and it hurt being on the outside looking in.”

Nora clasped his hand, “He’s not, Henry.  You’re a dog, and he’s a cat.  You prefer a large social circle; Barry only needs a handful of companions to be happy.”

“Then why do all of his stories have so many characters???”

They heard someone sneaking down the hall and figured Barry must’ve been listening.  Henry felt a pang of regret for his words as they moved to comfort their son.  They found him sleeping away from the door.  He hitched when Henry patted his shoulder, “Hey, slugger.”

Barry rolled over towards them.  It was more of a flop than a roll, though.  He sat up and sniffled up at Henry, “Would you keep me if I was a rabbit???”

“Of course we would, Barry,” Nora insisted.

Henry’s pang of regret evolved into a gnawed lip of repentance, “We’d keep you if you were a bunny or a puppy or a kitty or any other animal you can think of, but we like you best as a human because you can talk to us.”

With his parents flanking him, Barry had nowhere to run, so he slumped into his pillow instead, “You wouldn’t adopt me though; you just keep me around cuz I was born into this family.”

“....I’m glad you were born into this family,” Nora said firmly, “because that means you didn’t have to wait for a family who loves you unconditionally.”

Barry ping-ponged his gaze from Nora to Henry when the man added, “Don’t stick around people who don’t accept you.  Everybody has a right to be as conventional or unique as they want.  We’d rather you have one or two amazing friends than hundreds of subpar acquaintances.”

Nora gave her son a gentle hug before getting up, “Good night, my little Frost Elf.  The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner you can wake up and play in the snow.”

“Sleep well, slugger,” Henry chuckled at Barry’s glowing grin.  Winter rivaled writing for their boy’s adoration. “If you’re still hurting in the morning, let us know right away, okay?”

Barry nodded before wriggling back into his blanket burrito.  Henry shut the door behind him.  Barry woke up again when he heard scuffling outside his room.

Barry traded his title of fastest kid in gym class for second-slowest kid in gym class.  The last time he ran with any speed was when Joe staunchly forbade him from visiting Nora.  Fist-thick glass separated their palms, and phones separated their voices.  Nora seemed to have aged a decade overnight.

“Have you been enjoying the snow, my little Frost Elf?”

“....Snow’s no fun anymore.”


	2. Epic Rap Battles of Backstory: HFE Versus HJR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for #Rathagay
> 
> The last time I discussed Hartley's backstory, I traumatized Amber_Flicker and who knows how many others, so hopefully warning them beforehand will spare them a few therapy sessions ;)

Barry didn’t wanna go to college, but Joe wanted him to go to college; so in order to appease his bearded overlord, Barry shadowed his flouncy-haired, artsy-scarfed ex-babysitter for a day.  The material flew over his head except for Political Philosophy and one brief shining moment during her physics class.

“Polyphemus entrapped a crew of warriors and ate them two by two until their leader hatched a scheme to free them,” a pretentiously preppy man in thick spectacles entranced him with an ancient tale while most of his actual students tuned out. “He gave Polyphemus wine, and the Cyclops soon fell into a drunken sleep after asking for his name.  He gouged Polyphemus’s eye out, allowing himself and his crew to escape in their ship.  Polyphemus called for his brethren to stop him.  When they came, they asked who did it.  ‘Outis!’ cried Polyphemus.  His brethren left him without pursuing his assailants.”

 _Why would they do that???_ Barry wondered just as Professor Stein quizzed the class aloud.

“Because Outis means ‘no one’,” a guy wearing circular spectacles answered proudly when nobody else could.  Speckled with freckles, he looked too young to be enrolled in college, but so did Barry, so the latter assumed the former was also visiting.  Barry forgot the guy’s name when Professor Stein praised him; the guy smirked haughtily, yet his eyes beamed as if he hadn’t expected to receive recognition for this bout of genius.

Barry only remembered Stein’s name because Iris often spoke of his ridiculously high grading standards.  Barry would never see any of these folks again after today, so what was the point in having this data available for recollection?

Miss West compelled her cousin to ferry her paper down steep stairs by playing the I’m-your-older-sister-do-what-I-say-dammit card.  Hartley made little note of the boy sliding the stapled stack onto the desk until phantom claws dragged him down to the floor.

“Bartholomew Henry Allen,” Miss West laughed teasingly as Hartley helped him up, “only you can trip on nothing!”

“Thanks...?” Mr. Allen searched for a name.  How dare this peasant not recognize him on sight!?  He was the prince of Rathaway Industries: an economic empire with more assets than a continent—impoverished only when compared to Wayne Enterprises and Apple Inc!

“Hartley Jerry Rathaway, nearly Doctor Rathaway,” Hartley cologned himself in confidence to mask his irritation. “Do you truly have no idea who I am?”

“I dunno, have you done anything important???”

A stone popped loose from Hartley’s Jericho, “No.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, an invitation!?” the peasant huffed as if Hartley had demanded he subscribe to misogyny or racism. “Plenty of people are famous for popularity, but popularity fades, nearly Doctor Rathaway.”

“My grandfather founded Rathaway Enterprises; perhaps you’ve heard of it,” Hartley’s hackles raised and curled into talons itching to fight.  He looked down darkly upon him. “Third most affluent company in the world: a technological titan and a monarchal monopoly!”

This peasant’s dismissal dislodged another chunk outta Jericho, “Congratulations, you’ve got money—waddya do with it?”

Invest in low-risk ventures and ensure high-risk ventures turn a profit....  _What DO Mother and Father do with their money???_

“[What good is your purse if you’re poor in your heart?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cP6VqB4klpQ)”

Hartley demanded to know who the peasant stole these words from because there was no way this plebian possessed enough intelligence to invent them himself.

“JP Morgan.”

“He did not,” scoffed Hartley.

“He did in Epic Rap Battles of History!” the peasant grinned up at him cheekily. “Trump Versus Scrooge—you oughta look it up.  You might learn something if you stop bein’ a moron for a couple minutes.”

“I’m a mere two semesters away from earning a PhD; you’ve yet to earn a middle school diploma!” Hartley couldn’t take this insufferable churl anymore.  The boy flinched when Hartley stepped towards his space.  Hartley calmed a notch, sadistically satisfied to have sparked some terror in him. “Don’t bother taking the SATs; higher education is a waste on offspring of murderers.”

Miss West moved to intervene a millisecond too late.  The churl tackled him to the ground, slapped his glasses away, and yanked his hair, “MY MOM AND MY SISTER LOVE ME UNCONDITIONALLY AND SO DID MY DAD!  CAN YOU SAY THAT ABOUT YOUR FAMILY!?  IF YOU WERE WHAT YOUR FAMILY COULDN’T STAND, WOULD THEY STILL LOVE YOU!?!”

Hartley looked up at him with the bafflement one gives a lunatic.  Iris pulled him off.  Professor Stein—ruffled by fury—ordered his removal from his kingdom.  The boy spiked with fear, but Miss West ushered him out.

Hartley picked himself up, straightened his cardigan, and collected his gear.  A question festered in his mind throughout the rest of his day.  It didn’t disrupt his education.  He knew this stuff like the back of his hand; all his PhD was waiting for was the paperwork to prove it.  Later that evening, this question spilled out over dinner with Rachel and Osgood.

“Would you love me if I was gay???”

Jericho crashed.

Thankfully, such a fate did not befall Iris and Barry’s train ride back to Central.  Iris sensed something was on his mind and probed him for an answer.  Barry tentatively picked his head up, “Are you gonna get kicked outta college cuz of me?”

“What? No!” Iris leaned in and shook her head.  She sat back and sighed. “It’ll be awkward for a few weeks, but honestly, Stein would’ve blown up if you sneezed.  Don’t worry about me, that’s Dad’s job.” She turned serious and curious. “You told Rathaway that Aunt Nora, Uncle Henry, and I love you unconditionally....  Why didn’t you say my dad did too???”

Barry gazed out the window.  STAR Labs featured prominently in the cityscape of Central.  This sanctuary had been around since before he was born, yet Iris could clearly recall a time when it was no more than a sketch in a daydreamer’s notebook.  This concept was as difficult for Barry and his peers to imagine as it was for them to imagine life without the internet.  It was a refuge where no political or corporate barbs infected scientific progress, but what made it the heart of the city was its advances in philanthropy.  For that reason, some folks affectionately called it Central’s branch of Wayne Enterprises: a nickname perpetuated after it followed Thomas and Martha Wayne’s example of funding Central’s infrastructure.  Those who commuted by train had STAR Labs to thank for their transportation.  If Barry was any good at science or math, he’d work at there; but he was too stupid to make that dream a reality.

And too weird.

He rhetorically asked Iris if she remembered when he watched _Lilo & Stitch_ for the first time.  Iris nodded her head, “You’re Lilo, I’m Stitch, Dad’s David… and Aunt Nora and Uncle Henry were Nani.”

Lilos keep Stitches from obliterating everything, Stitches keep Lilos from getting lonely, Nanis take care of Lilos, and Davids help Nanis.  And now, of course, all these roles became jumbled within the West-Allen household.

Joe did his best—he really did—but a potpourri of idiosyncrasies made no sense to a middle-aged man who had three goals in life: 1) keep his kids safe, 2) keep Central safe, and 3) drink some damn fine coffee.

“Baer, are you… talking to yourself…?” Joe waltzed in with concern pooling in his eyes one afternoon forever fresh in the boy’s mind.

“I’m reading my stories out loud,” Barry looked up at the man with shorn hair and beard who was straightening his tie for work.  Barry was perched in a corner of Joe’s bloated leather couch with his laptop eagerly glowing with files galore and proudly blaring Disney music throughout the cop’s castle.  Joe kept questioning the boy with his eyeballs, so Barry added, “You’re supposed to read your stories out loud—it helps with editing—it’s like when actors read their script out loud.”

“But you don’t write scripts, you write stories....”

Barry hunkered over his laptop and mumbled, “It makes sense to Iris.”

“Baer, Iris has always been better at makin’ sense-a you than I ever will.”

Barry looked up at her guitily, “I like Joe better as a David than a Nani.” He looked out the window again, imagining a life of seclusion within STAR Labs. “He reminds me of the workers at the orphanage.”

Iris gently coaxed his hands into hers, “Why don’t I try to be your Nani then?”

Befuddlement invaded Barry’s face, “But you’re a Stitch.”

“Yes, but it’s okay for folks to change and grow,” Iris smiled sadly. “Nani was Lilo’s sister, but then she became Lilo’s guardian.  People need to adapt when their situation changes, and our situation changed a lot last year.  I… I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you and Dad.”

“….It’s okay, you were hurting too,” Barry looked up at her, wondering why she thought she needed to apologize.  His whispered to her as if he was a padawan amidst Separatist territory, “Mom didn’t kill Dad.”

“I know,” nodded Iris.  West Bullshit Radar®—once her grief for her uncle didn’t conquer it—warned her that the jury was a bit too eager to convict Nora.  Folks weren’t perfect, and neither was the tech they used.  Their whole Barry’s delusional theory didn’t hold up for her either.  Her Lilo was as imaginative as they came, but he knew the difference between wishing dreams were reality and thinking dreams were reality.  She swore to reexamine the case as soon as she graduated.  She hoped her Lilo could weather the storm in the meantime.


	3. Batflash Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time to play WHAT VERSION OF BATMAN & COMPANY AM I USING IN THIS FIC!?! Batman comes in all flavors, so the simple answer is STAR Blazers Batman & company. The long answer is Gotham Bruce & Selina with Dark Knight Rises armor and Teen Titans from the cartoon where they're HEROES and *gasps and faints* FRIENDS.

Barry sported a fading black eye when he delivered Joe and Iris’s dinner.  The latter had just enough time to fuss over Barry as usual before a timer beeped for her latest round of tests.  Even slow days for CCPD buzzed with activity.

Joe whistled at Barry’s shiner.  Football season’s conclusion left Woodward with too much free time on his paws.

“How about I teach you how to throw a punch tomorrow, Baer?” Joe offered, knowing he and Iris would get home too late from work to tutor him tonight.

Barry merely shifted onto his least bruised leg and shrugged.  Some days, Joe wished Iris and Barry didn’t have an age chasm between them so somebody would protect Barry from his tormentors.  On other days, Joe—and Captain Singh and everybody else at the station—was happy to have an in-house forensic scientist.  Iris put away more abusers and corrupt cops than anybody wished existed in their city.

Barry turned to leave for Joe’s house when the sharply-combed guy everybody knew Singh would eventually get his act together and marry entered.  Rob toted his and Singh’s spinach wraps—the poor thing had grand ambitions of improving Singh’s Big Belly Burger-sponsored diet. Ha!—and paused on his way to Singh’s office to greet the duo, balking when he saw Barry’s battered face, “Have you tried running away?”

“....He caught up.”

“Maybe Tony wouldn’t target you if you didn’t pretend your mother’s innocent.”

Joe sensed trouble afoot as soon as Rob suggested that.  Joe ping-ponged his gaze between the boy and the man.  Barry stared up at Rob with his eyes aflame.  Joe was pleasantly surprised when Barry didn’t react beyond that, so he returned to his paperwork.

Rob crashed onto the floor screaming as soon as he turned his back on Barry.

“Rob!!!” a sinewy man burst in.  It took both him and Joe to wrench Barry off of Rob.  Barry went limp in Joe’s hold.  Other officers braced for impact when their captain blazed at the purple-tied detective, “Joe, your daughter is the best lab tech we have—it’s a pleasure to work with her—but that freak is damaged goods!  Just because he’s your best friend’s son doesn’t mean you owe him anything.”

“Baer doesn’t usually go causing trouble, sir.  If he defended himself like he defended his mother, Woodward wouldn’t go anywhere near him.”

“Oh sure, a black eye is the same thing as smashing someone’s face in!”

“David, I’m fine,” the officers ignored Rob’s assurances.

“He’s a delusional lunatic—a human time bomb!!!” Singh continued ranting.  It ended with Barry cuffed in a holding cell.  Rob wasn’t pressing charges, but Singh and Joe believed the boy needed to learn respect.  He couldn’t go around beating folks who disagreed with him.

Time oozed featurelessly together once Barry retreated to the next episode of _Avenger Who & Stitch_.  The Winter Soldier exploded into Avengers Tower.  Captain America’s pleas echoed off his shield.  Stitch snarled and clenched four fists, confused as to why the Doctor was holding him back from defending their companion.  Iron Man was quipping and calculating today’s repair expenses while planting himself in front of Lilo and Nani.

Fingers itched for a writing utensil and some paper.  He’d carve his notes into the table if he had to.  In lieu of such tools, he replayed the best snippets in order to memorize them.

Barry stared at the one-way mirror even after Joe entered with a chicken sandwich from Big Belly Burger.  He and Iris still had several hours to go until their shifts ended tonight.  Singh wouldn’t release Barry unless they absolutely needed the holding cell for a perp, but so far, this night slogged on as uneventfully as this day did.

Joe sat across from Barry and pushed the burger-emblazoned satchel of grease towards him; Barry barely registered the movement, “Do you have any idea how easy you’re getting off today, Baer?  Rob’s not charging you.  Singh has every right to haul your ass away for disrupting the station.” Joe snapped his fingers, slamming his palm on the table when that failed to get his attention.  All he got for his troubles was a flinch. “Quit daydreaming for once in your life!  Your mother murdered your father—not some Bizarro World twin—your mother.  I don’t know why it’s taking you so long to accept reality, but you need to hurry up and get with the program.  Life isn’t _Lilo & Stitch_ or _Doctor Who_ or _Avengers_.  Your faith won’t be rewarded, the world isn’t some paradise where everything magically works out, and those quirks of yours aren’t cute....  Don’t you have anything to say!?”

Barry stopped talking to Joe first.  Joe would just shake his head and exhale disgust every time Barry professed Nora’s innocence.  Nora advised him to go live life instead of dying in the past.  Nobody—except Iris—believed Barry when he said his mother didn’t kill his father.

Woodward and company beat him up for answering too many questions right.  Barry figured out that “too many” meant “any” in their protozoan dictionaries.  Praise for participating in class didn’t heal jealous bruises.

Some folks assumed he was rude for refusing to speak.  Those were the folks who registered as threats.  Phones were 90% useless, but it’s not like he had any contacts besides his foster family and Kenny.  Silence took away worry about offending anybody or humiliating himself fumbling over Freudian slips.

Silence wasn’t golden for Barry, it was snowy.  Protests, retorts, and quips piled up inside him unplowed until apathy melted them.  None of them were ever worth uttering anyway.  The only words worth sharing with anybody were the words he wrote down, and even those needed to be guarded by a pseudonym.

Barry signed his stories as Hiver Frost Elf because he _despised_ Baer.  He wasn’t a bear.  Male bears kill cubs in order to produce their own.  He also wasn’t Tony’s Teddy Barry: a toy to squeeze and scream at when life overwhelmed the bigger boy.  Barry was Hiver—Winter—the least of four seasons: the one nobody wants except during the oasis in a glacial desert known as Christmas.

Joe exhaled exasperation as he got up to leave.  Barry quirked an eyebrow when Joe revealed halfway out the door, “Singh was watching us, you know.  He would’ve released you if you just apologized.  We weren’t even asking you to admit that Nora is a murderer.  A simple ‘sorry’ would’ve been fine; but if you’re gonna throw a temper tantrum like a brat, we’re keeping you in timeout like a brat.” _Maybe Singh’s right,_ Joe thought as he loudly shut the door behind him. _Maybe some folks don’t have a best behavior to be on...._

Singh swapped Barry for a perp as promised.  Joe sent him home.  Iris entered the suspect’s prints into the system.  She squinted at the pattern and ran it against another set on a hunch.  She interrupted the interrogation when the results came in, demanding where the suspect was on the night of Henry’s murder.  The suspect squawked, taken aback when Iris revealed she and Nora were a close enough match to fool yesterday’s tech.

The redheaded home robber sweated upon mention of the Allens, “I have a kid!”

Iris glared down mercilessly at the liar who ruined her baby cousin’s life, “So does my aunt!”

Nora knew something was up instantaneously when the guards gave her congratulatory remarks accompanied by nervous grins.  She didn’t survive years in prison without developing an acute awareness of her surroundings.  There was more to the story than a lawyer from Wayne Enterprises popping up to streamline her freedom.

One text obliterated Joe’s assumption that Barry had gone to Iris or Kenny’s apartment.  The Humane Society was closed, Jitters came up empty, and the movie theater wasn’t playing anything Barry would pay to see.  Barry could’ve taken a train and been halfway to Starling by now!  Iris frantically called the contacts she’d made during her practicum in Gotham when morning yawned over the horizon.

Raven teleported the team to the batbasement.  Dark-haired Nightwing groaned as she and the actual teenagers of the Teen Titans stampeded upstairs, “Don’t be ridiculous, Bats, it’s Grammy’s basement; therefore, it’s the Quiltcave!”

“Baez, where are you going at this unholy hour???  Not even the sun is awake yet,” a wide-hipped woman with heavily salted hair waggled her finger at them. “You kids may be invincible, but y’all still need to sleep occasionally.”

“We will, Grammy,” Nightwing assured her with her palms out in _please don’t shoot me_ fashion, “after we find Iris’s foster brother.  He’s been missing since last night.”

“Then why’d it take you so long to start lookin’ for ‘im???” Grammy harrumphed with a fist against her hip.

“They thought he’d come home by morning.”

Grammy’s head craned in a circle while her finger zipped all over the living room, “If he didn’t think home was safe last night, why would a bad night’s sleep change that?” Nightwing tried to defend the Wests, but Grammy cut her off. “Now I know I nothing about this family, but can you look me in the eye and say any of ‘em handled this situation well?” Nightwing’s mouth clicked shut. “Mm-hmm. I didn’t think so.” She shooed them out the door. “None-a ya come back until that poor boy’s safe.”

The nonflyers crammed into Nightwing’s flaking, cobalt Accord.  Batman, Catwoman, and Robin conspired to house a spare batmobile here while Cyborg—whose colossal build barely squeezed into the passenger seat—volunteered to give this puppy an overhaul.

“You kids may be content to have everything you own funded by the Bank of Bruce Wayne and Jason Grayson, but I have pride,” Nightwing rolled her eyes and insulted her vehicle until it grumbled awake. “I only let you two pay for my tuition because I didn’t have time to run background checks on every single scholarship I applied for; plus, vigilantism is basically a job with hours like these.”

“We have pride!” Beast Boy grinned cheekily before he shifted into a crow to flap alongside Starfire and Raven. “The difference between our pride and your pride is that our pride can be bought.”

Her catastrophe on wheels chugged along roads with webs of cracks until they reached an alley.  It smelled of alcohol, cigarettes, and trash.  Money and drugs often exchanged hands here.  Raven couldn’t pick out Barry’s soul from all of the other signatures laying around, especially since she hadn’t met him prior to this.  BB—now a beagle—became disoriented from the menagerie of scents.

“ **Barry Allen?** ” Robin cupped his hands to call him.  Those who used aliases trusted Iris with their identities, and they figured Barry could be trusted too, but danger often caught unprepared folks off-guard.  Thus, their voice modulators switched on when they exited Nightwing’s car.  They still didn’t see him. “ **We’re the Teen Titans; Iris sent us.  She’s really worried about you.** ”

Frizzy-haired Catwoman flicked her cat ears forward, examined the scene with the binoculars imbedded in them, and spoke up on a hunch, “ **Hiver Frost Elf???** ”

They waited a moment yet received no response.  Robin wrung a green-gloved hand through his untamable hair.  Cy patted her back, “It was worth a shot, Cats.”

They turned around to search somewhere else when a scraggily voiced rasped, “Leave me alone to die....”

“We will do no such thing!  Who has dared injure you so, Hiver!?” Starfire’s red-orange hair flared with worry and her eyes glowed green, ready to take vengeance on Barry’s attackers.

Batman calmed her down by informing her, “ **He’s quoting _Lilo & Stitch_.**”

“How the heck do you know that???” Raven wondered out loud from beneath her hood, blowing her indigo bangs out of her face.

“ **I’m the goddamn Batman; I know everything,** ” Batman proudly raised his nose before zipping up to the rooftop with his batgrappling gun.  Not so much as a toe poked out from beneath his cape as he headed over to a shivering seventeen-year-old. “ **Greetings, Mister Frost Elf, I am the goddamn Batman.  These are my companions: Nightwing, Robin, Catwoman, Starfire, Cyborg, Raven, and Beast Boy.  Nightwing is a paramedic; would you like her to check you over?** ”

Nightwing’s eyes bloated on sight of Barry scrunched up against a corner of the ledge fence, “ **Okay, on a scale of you-need-a-legit-doc right now and perfectly healthy, you’re at a solid stay-home-from-everything.** ”

Barry tensed at the word “home”.  Batman’s ebony eyebrows shot up curiously behind his cowl, “ **Would you prefer an escort to Detective West’s house or Miss Iris’s apartment?** ”

_He’ll just find me either way....  I’m not his son; he’s just too polite to admit it._

Barry scrunched up tighter against his corner, eying Starfire’s hand suspiciously when she reached out to him, “You can always come home with us.  We have plenty of the rooms!”

Barry didn’t budge, so Nightwing added, “ **Heaven knows how you’re alive after sitting here all night long in nothing but jeans and a sweatshirt, but Grammy’s threatening to disown me if we don’t bring you somewhere.** ”

Barry squinted up at Nightwing, then stifled a hiss as he scrabbled onto his feet.  He climbed onto the ground without complaint even though it was no secret how much he was hurting inwardly and outwardly.  Raven teleported Barry, herself, Robin, Batman, and Nightwing back to Grammy’s while Cy trucked Nightwing’s warzone with windshield wipers home with Starfire in the passenger seat and BB and Catwoman in the back.

Nightwing gave him a more thorough examination in the guest bedroom before clearing him to lay on the couch.  She texted Iris his laundry list of injuries. 

> Baez: These all better be from Woodward, otherwise your dad and Captain Singh need a lesson in police brutality.
> 
> Southwest: Oh god is he gonna be okay? Where was he?? Where IS he???
> 
> Baez: He’ll be fine as long as he doesn’t BREATHE between now & Monday. We found him on a rooftop in Zorn. Says he didn’t stop running ‘til he got there. We brought him back to my house. Hope u don’t mind Grammy having a white grandson. Granted right now, he’s more purple than white.

Grammy gave him a glass of orange juice and a bowl of buttery grits with bacon bits.  Barry shoveled in empty of every last crumb.  Raven waited for the rest of the crew on the porch because the turmoil in Barry’s mind gave her a migraine.  Robin flopped onto the couch and flipped open his communicator to check out the latest update of his favorite fanfic; he didn’t get to last night because Mad Mod was plastering Union Jacks all across Jump City.  Batman perched in the middle of the couch between his older brother and Barry.

Grammy gave Barry no less than three quilts to warm up with before gathering his favorite colors: black, navy, and emerald.  She’d crafted quilts for Nightwing, Iris, and the Teen Titans ages ago.  She didn’t care whose child any of ‘em were; they were all her grandchildren.

Barry watched her like a blue flame: quiet and intense.  Finally, Grammy asked Batman to grab her spare kit, “If you’d be so kind, baby.” Batman complied, setting it between himself and Barry as Grammy requested.  Grammy then returned her attention to Barry, “Do you know how to quilt, baby?” Barry shook his head.  Grammy walked him through his first couple squares, yet he slowed to a crawl on his own.

“....I hate making mistakes; It’s just one more way I’m a disappointment.”

“Who said you’re a disappointment? Cuz I most certainly didn’t.  Was it you???”

“No!” Robin swore, clearing himself and his brother out of the line of fire after they flinched from Grammy’s accusatory finger.  The Teen Titans would rather fight all of their villains at the same time than be on the receiving end of her wrath.

Nightwing obliviously left the bedroom for a snack only for Grammy to just about give her a heart attack, “Baez, did you call this boy a disappointment?”

“What? Never!”

“Then who’s goin’ around calling you a disappointment???” Grammy prepped her sharpest needles for action.  She looked like a combination of Rambo and Betty White.

Barry melted into Grammy’s well-loved paisley sofa, “....He doesn’t need to.”

Nightwing sent off another text to Iris before telling him, “Iris says it’s okay if you wanna stay with us this weekend.”

All Barry wanted to do was write _Avenger Who & Stitch_.  He’d typed up some notes on his phone last night before he drifted in and out of frosty slumber, but nothing beat having his files in front of him.  He intended to decline their offer until his phone buzzed with a text. 

> Northwest: Heard you’re sleeping over @ Titans Tower. Fancy. Coming back Mon?
> 
> HFE: NO
> 
> Northwest: You need to come home sometime, Baer.
> 
> HFE: I’ll go to I’s
> 
> Northwest: Baer....

Barry could hear Joe’s trademark _now, son…_ drawling through his head while he stared at the text.

> HFE: Yur just gonna say Mom killed Dad again! U always say that!! U hate her & u hate me 2!!!  I’M NOT IRIS I’LL NEVER B NORMAL ENOUGH 4 U I’M JUST A BOMB U CAN’T DEFUSE

Barry ignored Joe’s next text in favor of fuming.  Raven teleported the group after the rest of the Titans arrived.

Titans Tower featured a living room/kitchen area which was larger than the first floor of Joe’s house.  Most kids drew Titans Tower as a T-shaped building on an islet when they sent fanmail, but it was actually a suavely-renovated apartment complex in the middle of Jump.

A pale, chubby grub crawled over from an arc-shaped couch to meet him, cooing his greetings.  Starfire introduced him as Silkie.  Barry tentatively stooped down and stroked the top of Silkie’s head, flinching back when the grub rumbled contentedly in response.  This led to Barry nearly kicking a loofah version of a witch’s familiar.  She squiggled between his legs, stood up on her hindpaws, and demanded to be picked up.  Catwoman snickered as she freed Barry’s arms of his quilting squares so he could oblige Miss Kitka.  The cat stayed put in his hold until he began wandering over to the couch.

Catwoman assured him, “No worries! She loves riding people’s shoulders.”

“Wanna surprise cream cone???” excitement plastered a grin onto BB’s face.  Barry tilted his head off to the side in confusion.  He’d settled onto the couch, so Miss Kitka resettled in his lap. “They’re super cool—Cats invented ‘em!” BB scrabbled over to their ice cream machine. “You grab an ice cream cone,” the container released a cone with a scratchy swoosh “a flavor” BB filled the interior of the cone with strawberry “then another flavor” he topped it off with vanilla “and eat it!”

BB licked his snack, waggling his scalene eyebrows, confident Barry would accept.  Their ice cream was vegan because BB refused to eat products from anything he could transform into.  Barry’s surprise cream cone popped with banana before giving way to succulent chocolate.

Nightwing received another text from Iris; Raven teleported the duo to pick her up.  Iris rushed into a hug at once.  Protective Older Sibling Mode went into overdrive when Barry winced at his aggravated injuries.  Barry may have been old enough to not need constant supervision anymore, but if yesterday was any indication, that didn’t stop him from running into danger.  She’d heard about last night’s events from Joe and Singh first, then from Rob, so now she sat beside Barry to get his side.

Barry was as closed off as a diary.  Iris would be too if folks called her no less than

  1. a freak
  2. damaged goods
  3. a delusional lunatic
  4. a time bomb
  5. a brat



Rob was more horrified by his boyfriend and Joe discussing Barry like the boy wasn’t there than the actual attack, and the attack was terrifying enough on its own.

“Rob says he’s sorry for what he said about Aunt Nora.” Iris’s voice rolled throughout the room like a breeze: aloe for Barry’s burns after his father’s murder and mother’s imprisonment, an ice pack for wounds from Joe’s well-intentioned criticism and Tony’s wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing attention.

Barry continued gazing up at her mocha eyes with apathy.  Iris didn’t blame him for not believing her.

“Dad told me what you texted him.  He’s not going to do that anymore, Hiver.”

“Yes he will!” Barry went from clear skies to a thunderstorm in the time it took lightning to strike. “He yells for WEEKS after I defend Mom!  I know what I saw that night!!  Mom didn’t kill Dad!!!”

“We know; everybody knows now.”

Barry scrutinized her suspiciously.

“We found Uncle Henry’s real killer, Hiver.” Iris’s next words drowned in Barry slumping back into his seat and staring lifelessly out the window.  Raven winced and retreated into her room from the turmoil: Barry’s and reactions to Barry’s.  Iris tried reaching him with a soft-spoken Rachel Platten tune.  He looked her way for a few seconds before resuming his contemplation.  Finally, she handed him his messenger bag, “I brought your laptop if you want to write.”

Miss Kitka took great offense to being uprooted by a mechanical monstrosity.  Barry turned the machine on and retreated to his haven of heroes.  Iris patted his shoulder before she got up to thank Batman and Robin for sending Nora a top-notch lawyer.  The boys smiled.

“No problem, Iris!” Robin gave her a thumbs-up.

Batman kept his appendages in a reverse arm fold, “ **Doctor Allen is in excellent hands.  Public support is rather strong for her release; bureaucrats will face great difficulty and steep declines in popularity should they so choose to stall it.** ”

Grammy, Iris, and the Titans’ chatter provided background noise until Barry calmed down and closed his laptop.  Miss Kitka immediately reclaimed Barry’s lap once he set his device on the coffee table; it was larger than any kitchen table Barry had ever seen.  He watched Cy smoke BB in Mario Kart before joining in the next round.  Cy was the reigning champion at Mario Kart, but Barry beat BB, Starfire, and all of the computer players.

Batman showed Barry his room later that night.  The space was a neutral slate ready for decorating.  It came set up with a desk, spinny chair, bookshelf, closet, and a bed.  One wall was a window which altered its opacity on command.  Barry noticed Fuzzy awaiting him on a bed with his favorite blankets.

Batman said, “ **I was an only child until I was six; the Graysons’ trapeze equipment was sabotaged, dooming my brother’s parents to fall to their deaths.  When I was seven, we went out to the theatre to celebrate Jason’s adoption papers going through.  A thief shot my parents after I needed to go home early because the performance scared me....  Jason has always been braver than me.  When my parents died, I had my brother and our butler there for me.  Did you seek anyone out when your father died???** ”

Nora was in jail, Joe put her in jail, and Iris was grieving her uncle before she fled all too soon for college.  Barry was ripped away from everything familiar and safe until Joe’s application to foster him was approved.  The closest thing Barry had to a support system during the interim was writing and Fuzzy.  Folks were more concerned about quelling his _delusions_ than healing his grief.

“ **You didn’t because you couldn’t,** ” Batman continued.  Barry picked up Fuzzy lifelessly. “ **You don’t have to grieve alone anymore.** ” Barry perked up at that distant dream before deflating from physical and emotional exhaustion.  Batman turned to leave, pausing at the sliding door, “ **Sleep well, friend.** ”

Barry settled into a blanket burrito with Fuzzy and clamped down on his tears.  He fell into a fitful sleep flooded with insults and the responses to them he never dared to speak out loud.  His voice died amidst the roars of his nightmares.  His last line of defense—pushing these memories away—failed just as miserably because they simply pushed back.


	4. 1-3 Commentary

Welcome, y’all, to another HFE commentary.  If y’all have no idea what to expect, these commentaries are basically me rambling on and on about how clever I think I am, reacting to my own text, pointing out when I reference something, and probably spoiling some things.  That was your one and only spoiler warning, thou hath been warned.  These commentaries tend to take on a more conversational tone with some emojis thrown in, so beware fast and loose punctuation.  Also, I’ve watching a lot of Markiplier videos lately, so extra beware spastic capitalization.  I usually don’t edit commentaries too much since they’re my raw thoughts.

As this is the first commentary on this fic, it’ll include info about the fic in general and the actual chapter.  Also, since EXTERMINATE is such a short chapter and it doesn’t properly prepare y’all for the insanity y’all have stumbled upon, I’m posting two more chapters today for a total of three chapters and three commentaries.  THIS WILL NOT HAPPEN AGAIN.  In the future, y’all shall receive one chapter and one commentary per week, inspiration willing.

The chapters I’m writing now are being written much more slowly for whatever reason.  Maybe my brain’s in “outta school, no thinking allowed” mode, or I’m just having less of an attention span than normal, but it’s most likely that I didn’t have much of a plan beyond a certain point until yesterday.  Hopefully, my productivity will go back to normal NOW THAT I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING.

I’ll also never leave you on a life-or-death cliffhanger unless the other half of the cliffhanger is to ready to post.  If that means no update for a couple weeks, then take some blood pressure medication cuz it either means I’ve got a doozy coming up or I’m just writing slower than a snail or BOTH.

Also, I’m just warning y’all right now that all of the words I’ve concocted for this fic total over 25000.  I’ll understand if anybody wants to abandon ship right now.  This figure includes these three chapters yet doesn’t include any commentaries cuz I store those in separate docs.

I thought long and hard about where to put the commentaries.  I wondered if I should post them as a separate fic and make this a series, post them within the same fic and move them to the back, or just post each chapter alongside its commentary.  I don’t want folks to search for the latest update, so the commentaries will go beside their chapters for now since this is a WIP, and I don’t have an ending in mind.

So I’m assuming that y’all read the summary—which quotes LarryBoy, of all things—the title, and the first chapter because if you’re reading this, you’re probably the kind of person who reads everything.  I’m also assuming that you have no idea what kind of insanity you’ve stumbled upon, so allow me to enlighten you.

I created the first file of drafts—I am currently on file number 12 for this fic—on March 31, exactly two months ago at time of posting.  The premise behind this fic is the following question: How would I end up if I was subjected to Barry Allen’s life?  I selected what I believe to be my main traits and gave Barry a height of 5’05” because pretty much everyone in Arrowverse is freakin’ six feet tall, so it was about time that we had a shorty.  Otherwise, Barry Allen’s physical appearance is what is on the show.

There are always things that bother me about anything I consume, and one of my main issues with _Flash_ , meaning the show, is that Barry is pretty trusting of the man who thought he was lying growing up.  I’d trust my best friend with my secret identity as the Scarlet Speedster—and ask her for a better name than Streak—more than my foster father.

Why isn’t Eo in here?  Well, fandoms are sandboxes, and I’ve played in Eo’s corner of the sandbox plenty of times.  I want to do something different.  That’s another goal of this fic: experiment and have fun.  So yeah, admittedly, what sets Nora free is super contrived, but honestly, is it as contrived as a time-traveling sociopath opening up a wormhole and leaving a recorded confession in his wake?  Probably :) You be the judge of that.

Eo isn’t the only character I’m not using for this ‘verse.  I also won’t have Savitar, Caitlin, Cynthia | Gypsy, Patty, Eddie, Ronnie, Tina, Jesse, Francine, Wally, or any of the alternate Wellses just to name a few.  As much as I love HR—WHAT THE FUCK HE’S DEAD NOW!?!—I’m writing in the spirit of experimenting.  Also, be prepared for characters who aren’t metas in canon becoming metas here.  Canon and sanity don’t happen when I write words.  You’ll see lots of additions, subtractions, divisions, and multiplications.

Why am I gifting this fic to myself???  Because 1) *plays a note on a kazoo* happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday, HFE, happy birthday to me.  I got my cake in a cup topped with a dollop of ice cream which I’M EATING FOR BREAKFAST.  I put a cut-up strawberry in the batter, and ice cream is dairy, so it’s TOTALLY healthy :)  And I just learned that my cake in a cup box comes with FOUR packets of cake in a cup instead of just one, and I am currently way happier than I have any right to be.  Leave a comment to keep the happiness happening.

And 2) this is the most self-indulgent I’ve been with everything I’ve written so far, fanfiction or otherwise.  Shout out & special thanks to WynterTwylight.  This would be hidden away in the dark abyss of my laptop without her encouragement because I know this probably isn’t all that great in addition to being the weirdest nonsense I’ve ever written.  Wyn reminded me that my most important audience member is myself; in her own words, “[W]ho are you writing for, really? Because it should be you….  It's YOUR story, not theirs.” So this fic is me writing for myself.  I picked to wait until my birthday to post it in order to build up some buffer chapters and to stop myself from procrastinating to post it.

Is it always going to be this sad? No.  It’ll get better, I promise.  There is a light at the end of this tunnel.  Just hang in there.

Without further ado, let’s chat about the text.

EXTERMINATE

Chapter title comes from the Daleks for the pariahs and hermits among you who aren’t familiar with _Doctor Who_ ;)

> “Technically, one _remembers_ everything,” Barry cited a psychology textbook his babysitter let him borrow.  His eyes continued flitting across the screen as he typed at speeds which a Thunderbird would envy. “What often eludes folks is _recalling_ information.”

Barry is eleven years old here.  Iris is 17.  I took my first psychology class during my senior year of high school.  Nora, Henry, and Joe’s ages don’t matter as much to me since they’re grownups, but I imagine that Joe manufactured Iris straight out of high school while Nora and Henry waited until after college.  What happened to Francine in this ‘verse? Don’t know, don’t care.  All that matters is that the Wests and the Allens share a backyard since they’re next-door neighbors, and that Barry and Iris think of themselves as cousins.  There will be no Westallen shipping in this fic.  Canon!Joe thinks of them as his kids, and it always creeps me out that he’s okay with his kids marrying each other.  No parent would be okay with incest.  What’s hot in fanfiction isn’t necessarily a turn-on in something where we expect a certain level of realness.  The show keeps flip-flopping on whether or not Iris and Barry think of each other as siblings or as friends.  If they established and maintained that they thought of each other as ONLY friends, I’d be okay with Westallen happening in canon, but because they’re on the fence about it, I’m on the fence about it.  Plus, I don’t like how this current season’s (season 3 if anybody encounters this after 2017) characterization of Iris starts and ends at “Barry’s love interest/damsel in distress”.  Like, the more the writers try to make me care about the ship, the less I care about it; and I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. Shoutout to Serenityreview!

So who will Barry ship with in this fic???  Um... well, tbh, probably nobody, at least in the beginning.  He’s just too much of a mess to think about dating or anything like that.

Iris, however, will ship with someone, so look forward to that.  All I’ll say about it is that it only took me 49 fics, but I’ve finally done it: include a lesbian relationship.  I know that’s not really much of an achievement, but it bothers me that I’ve written plenty of male/female and male/male relationships and lots of multi-partners, yet no female/female.

If you think about it though, it’s really hard to write female/female.  First of all, many fandoms are populated by predominantly male characters.  How many female characters have been on Flash?  Nora (dead), Francine (also dead), Tess (super dead), Tina (haven’t seen in forever), Iris (downgraded to a damsel in distress/plot device rather than treating her as a legit character), Lisa (MIA since the last episode with “Rogue” in the title), Cynthia | Gypsy (lives on another Earth), Patty (off at college, if I’m remembering correctly), Dr. Light and Linda (dead & hasn’t been seen since forever, respectively), Earth2 Killer Frost, Caitlin | Earth1 Killer Frost (the less we say about her/them, the better), Jesse (didn’t help the boys fight Savitar for some strange reason; with all seriousness, “where the flip are you, grrrrl?” was my biggest question in that episode), Tracy, Shawna (who’s been in all of, what? 2 episodes???), Vertigo Girl or whatever the hell her (code)name is (y’all know who I’m talking about), Bette Sans Souci (DEAD), Rachel Rathaway (WISH she was dead along with her husband), Majenta, Cecille and Joanie (whose names I had to look cuz that’s unimportant they are.  Why do they exist?  Who watched _Flash_ and said “Ya know what this show needs? A girlfriend for Joe!  But she’s not gonna do much.  She’s just gonna be a girlfriend.  Oh, but everyone will hate us if we add a female character whose characterization starts and ends at ‘this character is female’; let’s give her a daughter to prove she’s human!  But don’t worry, she doesn’t need to do anything or affect the plot at all, we just need a ship viewers will care about even less about than Westallen so that Westallen looks appealing.”).  We’re not including anybody from or who has migrated to another part of Arrowverse (such as Kendra - > LOT, Felicity, Earth2 Black Siren, or Kara).  Including the corpses and counting Earth1 Killer Frost and Caitlin as separate characters brings the number of female characters on _Flash_ to a grand total of 22.  Please let me know if I’ve missed anybody.

Using those same rules (no Flash emigrants or anybody from another Arrowverse show, counting alternates as separate characters, and counting dead people), how many males do we have?  Savitar, Barry (nobody thinks he’s dead; nice try, writers), Original Harrison Wells, Harry, HR (I reject the writers’ reality and substitute my own.  HR’S ALIVE DAMMIT AND NOBODY CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE), Wally, Joe, Henry, Cisco, Francisco, Dante, Dante2, Ronnie, Ronnie2, Singh, Rob, Eddie, Julian, Alchemy, Tony, Simon Stagg, Osgood Rathaway (WISH he was dead along with his wife), Hannibal Bates, Electricity Guy (the not-speedster dude who stole Barry’s powers for an episode back in season one), both Santini brothers, Mason Bridge, Eric Larkin, both Tricksters, Nimbus, Rainbow Raider, Hartley, Mirror Master, Henry Hewitt, Fake Music Meister (did the writers watch ‘Mayhem of the Music Meister’ and wonder “how can we make this character BORING?”  I _hate_ SuperFlash’s musical*  & its Music Meister WITH THE PASSION OF 10,000 DYING THAWNES.  I dunno if I can even include him in the count since he’s a character from a crossover episode, but it’s not like he’ll affect the count all that much even if I do), Lewis, Clyde, Mark, the Rival; I’ll stop here cuz I’ve long since run out of fingers and toes to count with.

The point is, lesbian beggars can’t be choosers.  It should not be this difficult to have interesting females in a thing.  Here’s how ya do it.

Step 1: invent an interesting character.

Step 2: refer to this interesting character with female pronouns.

Step 3: ta-da!

*It’s not like the musical had anything especially hateable about it; it’s just uninteresting and unmemorable, LIKE THIS VERSION OF MUSIC MEISTER.  The only song I even remotely remember is the Super Friends song and only because I was cringing the whole time that the writers thought it was a good idea to reference _Super Friends_ —but then I remembered how many stupid things I reference and left them alone**.  I can’t name every single song from ‘Mayhem of the Music Meister’, but you can listen to any song from that episode, and you KNOW it’s from an episode of Batman: the Brave and the Bold, or at least some sort of superhero-related thing.  AND it has fun with its premise—what a concept!  Meanwhile, if SuperFlash’s musical was the first episode of Flash or Supergirl you ever saw, would you be able to tell that these are superhero shows???  I’m all for [out-of-genre experiences](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OutOfGenreExperience), but the best ones in my opinion (feel free to disagree) are the ones that don’t forget what a thing’s main genre is.  Even _Doctor Who_ got this right with its superhero episode.  It never forgot that _Doctor Who_ is, first and foremost, science fiction.

**Case in point, I watched [I’m at Soup!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_o2hhSgfJ8) and temporarily lost the ability to breathe and was wondering what I’d just watched for a solid five minutes.  Knowing my uselessness at finding things, I’m sure Iris will poke fun at Barry with it in this fic eventually.  With any luck, I’ll know what I watched by then.

> Nora chuckled through her nose and kissed her adorable nerd, scanning his tale as she playfully stage-whispered, “I _recall_ a certain little Frost Elf promising to be done for the night after he finished his current page five pages ago.”

I may have taken the Hiver_Frost_Elf is Barry Allen concept a little too literally, but hey, that’s a trait of me, too.  There aren’t frost elves in Middle Earth, but Nora’s a Tolkien fan for future reference.  Characters should always have hobbies.  One of the benefits of using characters with such little info about them is that anyone can fill in the blanks however they want.

> His Samoyed plushie, Fuzzy, sat next to him on the windowsill.

Fuzzy is real.  He’s a Webkinz, he wears swim trunks, and he’s a-freakin’-dorable.  This will not be the last y’all hear of him.  Haters gonna hate.

> It’s the kind of snow folks expect on Christmas and on their calendars’ winter months.

If you don’t have snow on Christmas, sucks to be you.  Seriously, you can’t sing half the Christmas songs in existence cuz they’re all raging about fluffy white stuff.

> His coach’s only complaint was that sports and athleticism didn’t interest the fastest kid in gym class.

I have never been the fastest kid in gym class, and I never will be.  I’m always the second slowest on a good day.  This line was originally gonna foreshadow that Barry was a clone of a future version of Harrison Wells when the man becomes Flash.  Reverse took a sample of his mentor’s DNA to create a clone to sacrifice to Savitar (this was before we discovered that Savvy was a future version of Barry) or the League of Shadows to restore the power of the Lazarus Pit.  Ra’s needs a speedster’s blood to rejuvenate his immortality bath every whatever many years.  I am man enough to admit that my first idea is not always the best.  While the idea of Barry being Harrison’s offspring has intrigued me ever since I saw a “Harrison is future Barry” theory (which I can’t find anywhere now, so if somebody has a link to it, I’d be immensely grateful if you shared it with the class), there’s already enough complexity to this fic that I don’t need to make it unnecessarily convoluted by making Barry adopted by his canon parents.  And like I said before, what frees Nora is so lame that I wanna have as few contrivances as possible.

> She enticed him to bed with one of his favorite books: _Click Clack Moo, Cows That Type_.

_The Little Dinosaur_??? Fuck that shit, _Click Clack Moo_ ’s where it’s at!  Actually, my favorite book growing up was _Goodnight Moon_ and my Blue’s Clues library, but if _Click Clack Moo_ existed while I was growing up, it would’ve been that.

> “Then why do all of his stories have so many characters???”

I feel like Barry’s defense here would be something along the lines of “just cuz everyone’s mean in real life doesn’t mean they should be mean in a story”.

> They heard someone sneaking down the hall and figured Barry must’ve been listening.  Henry felt a pang of regret for his words as they moved to comfort their son.  They found him sleeping away from the door.  He hitched when Henry patted his shoulder, “Hey, slugger.”

This scene was added in late in the game.  Originally, “someone sneaking down the hall” was Henry’s killer.  Barry hadn’t heard this conversation.  I changed it because I felt bad that Henry didn’t have a strong bonding moment with Barry before he died.  As much as I don’t condone canon!Henry’s decision to wander off to National Nature Channel Park instead of pursuing the crazy notion of spending time with his family-starved kid—which, if I’m being honest, was one of my primary motivators for swapping Henry for Nora in this fic—this version of Henry hadn’t done that.  The other reason why I swapped Nora for Henry is cuz like I said earlier, Nora has more blanks I can fill, and again, I like shaking things up.

> He sat up and sniffled up at Henry, “Would you keep me if I was a rabbit???”

This is a reference to my favorite Disney movie, if not my favorite movie: _Lilo & Stitch_.  The ensuing conversation is a reference to STAR Blazers.  I don’t know WHERE Barry got the notion in his head that his parents would prefer a “normal” kid, probably from Tony or some other jerk at school.  If he has any of the same insecurities as I do—which is kinda the point of this fic—he knows he’s a misfit, and he also knows that folks tend to prefer normal people over weirdos.

Epic Rap Battles of Backstory: HFE Versus HJR

If y’all can’t figure out where I got this chapter title from, y’all are LOSERS!  Losers, I got it from EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HISTORY!!!

> Barry didn’t wanna go to college, but Joe wanted him to go to college; so in order to appease his bearded overlord, Barry shadowed his flouncy-haired, artsy-scarfed ex-babysitter for a day.

“Bearded overlord” *snickers*

> “Well, what are you waiting for, an invitation!?” the peasant huffed as if Hartley had demanded he subscribe to misogyny or racism. “Plenty of people are famous for popularity, but popularity fades, nearly Doctor Rathaway.”

Barry’s being snarky in this chapter, isn’t he? Wow.

FYI, I can barely math, and I am incapable of calendaring, so disregarding when everybody’s birthdays fall, in this chapter; Iris is 18, Barry is 12, and Hartley is 15.  I imagine that this chapter occurs in the spring after Henry dies and the spring BEFORE #Rathagay.

> “I’m a mere two semesters away from earning a PhD; you’ve yet to earn a middle school diploma!” Hartley couldn’t take this insufferable churl anymore.  The boy flinched when Hartley stepped towards his space.  Hartley calmed a notch, sadistically satisfied to have sparked some terror in him. “Don’t bother taking the SATs; higher education is a waste on offspring of murderers.”

Why the hell is Hartley a jerk in this chapter?  Because I wanted to perform an experiment.  I wanted to see if I could take a character we all love, make us hate him (or at least wanna Gibbs-slap him), and then put us all back in his corner.  Someone needs to undergo character development dammit, and since Eddie’s unavailable, I chose Hartley.  Stein might come back when the particle accelerator explodes; I haven’t decided who’s gonna be the other half of FIRESTORM yet.

Also, I think it’s sad that Hartley knows Barry from the Allen murder.  Barry wasn’t enough of a pariah already, now he’s got Nora’s false conviction tying a noose around his head.

He already didn’t wanna go to college, so Hartley didn’t influence this decision; all Hartley did was strengthen the conviction behind this conviction.

> “MY MOM AND MY COUSIN LOVE ME UNCONDITIONALLY AND SO DID MY DAD!  CAN YOU SAY THAT ABOUT YOUR FAMILY!?  IF YOU WERE WHAT YOUR FAMILY COULDN’T STAND, WOULD THEY STILL LOVE YOU!?!”

[Imperial March](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64uH3oUG00U)

> “Would you love me if I was gay???”
> 
> Jericho crashed.

Sometimes, the best storytelling is done by letting folks use their imagination....  I’m terrified by that last line.

> Barry tentatively picked his head up, “Are you gonna get kicked outta college cuz of me?”

This is a stealth reference to _Lilo & Stitch_.  Lilo asks Nani, “Did you get fired because of me?”, to which Nani replies, “Nah, my manager’s a vampire.  He wanted me to join his legion of the undead.”  The implication is that something along these lines has happened before to Lilo and Nani, yet Nani’s not ending this day letting her still wounded little sister think all of their troubles is her fault.  Barry’s twelve; I barely knew college existed until I was sixteen :) so I doubt he knows the rules regarding responsibility when someone’s guest acts of line.

*If Barry was any good at science or math, he’d work at there; but he was too stupid to make that dream a reality.*

The reason Barry thinks he’s an idiot is because writing stories doesn’t really help you do much other than write stories.  He’s a Jack of One Trade kinda guy.  In a universe populated by child geniuses, supercomputers personified as Batman, blah blah blah, Barry’s type of intelligence doesn’t seem all that useful.  Plus, at this point, he probably doesn’t know that there are multiple types of intelligence.

> Joe did his best—he really did—but a potpourri of idiosyncrasies made no sense to a middle-aged man who had three goals in life: 1) keep his kids safe, 2) keep Central safe, and 3) drink some damn fine coffee.

Joe’s goals are snicker-worthy, if I do say so myself :)

> “Baer, are you… talking to yourself…?” Joe waltzed in with concern pooling in his eyes one afternoon forever fresh in the boy’s mind.

This and the ensuing conversation is based on a real event that taught me that the mind of a writer (or maybe just my mind) makes absolutely no sense to non-writers, and that is all I’ll say about it.

> Barry looked up at her guitily, “I like Joe better as a David than a Nani.”

“I like you better as a sister than a mom,” ~ Lilo

> “He reminds me of the workers at the orphanage.”

T_T "Folks were more concerned about quelling his _delusions_ than healing his grief."

> “I know,” nodded Iris.  West Bullshit Radar®—once her grief for her uncle didn’t conquer it—warned her that the jury was a bit too eager to convict Nora.

West Bullshit Radar® has returned with a vengeance, STAR Blazers fans!

> Folks weren’t perfect, and neither was the tech they used.

So in my college psych class, we watched a video about super epic tech that can help collect evidence, including a doodad that can match up fingerprints at X more points than standard doodads, and all of us wide-eyed students were like “how do cops not catch criminals with all these toys???”  And then our teacher broke it to us that most of these toys cost WAY MORE than most stations have their disposal.  It was a point in (if I’m _recalling_ correctly) Batman Begins that the government doesn’t wanna spend lots of money keeping soldiers safe; granted, Begins’ Batsuit has a HUGE price tag attached to it.  Also, keep in mind that tech develops faster than a FNAF sequel.  One day, you’re buying a phone, and two months later, something else comes along that makes you a grandpa for associating with such an antique.

BatBlitz Begins

Title inspired by Batman Begins.

> “How about I teach you how to throw a punch tomorrow, Baer?” Joe offered, knowing he and Iris would get home too late from work to tutor him tonight.

I like Joe TRYING to be a parent for Barry.  Even if he doesn’t understand him AT ALL, he doesn’t want his nephew to be helpless against Tony.  Why it’s taken him this long to teach him anything, I don’t know, but it’ll soon be a moot point anyway.

> Some days, Joe wished Iris and Barry didn’t have an age chasm between them so somebody would protect Barry from his tormentors.  On other days, Joe—and Captain Singh and everybody else at the station—was happy to have an in-house forensic scientist.  Iris put away more abusers and corrupt cops than anybody wished existed in their city.

For those y’all playing at home, Barry is now 17, and Iris is now 23.  I originally had a line in here about Lewis, but I didn’t wanna imply that Iris proved Lewis is an abuser mostly because it’s gonna take forever for the Rogues to show up at this rate, and in this universe, Len and Lisa’s grandfather won custody of them because it’s time Central City CPS did something right for a change.

> “Maybe Tony wouldn’t target you if you didn’t pretend your mother’s innocent.”

I struggled and STRUGGLED and _struggled_ to keep this in character.  This was a lot harsher back in the day of a single-digit number amount of drafts.  I considered having someone else say it, but then I realized that Singh flipping out for anybody else but Rob just wouldn’t work.  Plus, regardless of CCPD’s ability to implicate the correct suspect, I’m pretty sure the wimpiest officer on the Force should be able to take down an untrained, unathletic teenager.

> Time oozed featurelessly together once Barry retreated to the next episode of _Avenger Who & Stitch_.  The Winter Soldier exploded into Avengers Tower.  Captain America’s pleas echoed off his shield.  Stitch snarled and clenched four fists, confused as to why the Doctor was holding him back from defending their companion.  Iron Man was quipping and calculating today’s repair expenses while planting himself in front of Lilo and Nani.

I daydream all day.  There are many sources of inspiration; daydreaming and dreaming are two of the best.

> “Quit daydreaming for once in your life!  Your mother murdered your father—not some Bizarro World twin—your mother.  I don’t know why it’s taking you so long to accept reality, but you need to hurry up and get with the program.  Life isn’t _Lilo & Stitch_ or _Doctor Who_ or _Avengers_.  Your faith won’t be rewarded, the world isn’t some paradise where everything magically works out, and those quirks of yours aren’t cute....  Don’t you have anything to say!?”

:(

> Barry stopped talking to Joe first.  Joe would just shake his head and exhale disgust every time Barry professed Nora’s innocence.  Nora advised him to go live life instead of dying in the past.  Nobody—except Iris—believed Barry when he said his mother didn’t kill his father.
> 
> Woodward and company beat him up for answering too many questions right.  Barry figured out that “too many” meant “any” in their protozoan dictionaries.  Praise for participating in class didn’t heal jealous bruises.
> 
> Some folks assumed he was rude for refusing to speak.  Those were the folks who registered as threats.  Phones were 90% useless, but it’s not like he had any contacts besides his foster family and Kenny.  Silence took away worry about offending anybody or humiliating himself fumbling over Freudian slips.

This was all adapted from the selectively mute!Barry fic I mentioned in [Let’s (Not) Talk About That](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10416723).  How Barry’s brand of selective mutism is a little confusing if you’re on the outside looking in, so here’s how I interpret it.  Barry fears talking to people he perceives as a threat, but strangers and safe people are fine.  Strangers are innocent until proven guilty, and safe people have obviously proven themselves innocent.  Although I’m sure he’s reluctant to strangers, he will if he has to.

> Silence wasn’t golden for Barry, it was snowy.  Protests, retorts, and quips piled up inside him unplowed until apathy melted them.*
> 
> This is so sad and beautiful at the same time. Wow.
> 
> _*Maybe some folks don’t have a best behavior to be on...._

This is my saddest reference to STAR Blazers. Sheesh, Joe, really?  Don’t just give up on your nephew, ~~cuz he’s already given up on himself~~.

For those of you who have no time/interest in reading STAR Blazers, basically, this line was said about Eobard Thawne who kidnapped and abused the main character, Solnishko, throughout Solnishko’s childhood to the point where all Solnishko knew was Eo’s treatment of him before Mick rescued him.

So to recap, we’re putting an outcast defending his mom’s name on the same level of the guy who could give _Lewis_ a run for his money, to which Solnishko would yell “HELL NO!”

> She squinted at the pattern and ran it against another set on a hunch.  She interrupted the interrogation when the results came in, demanding where the suspect was on the night of Henry’s murder.  The suspect squawked, taken aback when Iris revealed she and Nora were a close enough match to fool yesterday’s tech.

This is the stupid thing that frees Nora that I warned y’all about earlier.  Is it as stupid as I feared, or did I lower your expectations enough that this seems impressive?

I love the idea of Iris interrupting an interrogation, though.  Not gonna lie, that needs to happen again.  I didn’t even know I needed this in my life until right now.  Feel free to write all the Iris Interrupting Interrogations fics y’all want!  I would consider it an honor to inspire you.

> The redheaded home robber sweated upon mention of the Allens, “I have a kid!”
> 
> Iris glared down mercilessly at the liar who ruined her baby cousin’s life, “So does my aunt!”

Snap!

> There was more to the story than a lawyer from Wayne Enterprises popping up to streamline her freedom.

This lawyer was originally Laurel, but then my Arrow plans changed (hopefully for the better). Fingers crossed.

> “Don’t be ridiculous, Bats, it’s Grammy’s basement; therefore, it’s the Quiltcave!”

Grammy’s alive CUZ EVERYBODY NEEDS GRAMMY IN THEIR LIFE.  Hopefully, she lives up to all the hype from STAR Blazers.

> Her catastrophe on wheels chugged along roads with webs of cracks until they reached an alley.

“Catastrophe on wheels” lol

> Frizzy-haired Catwoman flicked her cat ears forward, examined the scene with the binoculars imbedded in them, and spoke up on a hunch, “ **Hiver Frost Elf???** ”
> 
> They waited a moment yet received no response.  Robin wrung a green-gloved hand through his untamable hair.  Cy patted her back, “It was worth a shot, Cats.”
> 
> They turned around to search somewhere else when a scraggily voiced rasped, “Leave me alone to die....”
> 
> “We will do no such thing!  Who has dared injure you so, Hiver!?” Starfire’s red-orange hair flared with worry and her eyes glowed green, ready to take vengeance on Barry’s attackers.

I think this is so stupid yet cute that this works.

To Starfire’s credit, what other way is there to interpret Barry’s line?

> “ **I’m the goddamn Batman; I know everything,** ” Batman proudly raised his nose before zipping up to the rooftop with his batgrappling gun.  Not so much as a toe poked out from beneath his cape as he headed over to a shivering seventeen-year-old. “ **Greetings, Mister Frost Elf, I am the goddamn Batman.  These are my companions: Nightwing, Robin, Catwoman, Starfire, Cyborg, Raven, and Beast Boy.  Nightwing is a paramedic; would you like her to check you over?** ”

I feel like, personality-wise, Batman’s giving off strong Adam West!Batman vibes; which, ya know, fits seeing as he’s a blend of several Batman incarnations anyway.

I love how it’s not enough to introduce himself as Batman, he introduces himself as the goddamn Batman.  Wow, this fic is so cheesy.

> Nightwing’s warzone with windshield wipers

Insulting Shawna’s car NEVER gets old :D

> Grammy gave him a glass of orange juice and a bowl of buttery grits with bacon bits.
> 
> Okay, so you either know what grits are or ya don’t, and it’s really difficult to explain what grits are to the uninitiated.  Think of oatmeal, but instead of oats, it’s Rice Krispies cereal ground up to the size of table salt.  That’s the best I can do.“Then who’s goin’ around calling you a disappointment???” Grammy prepped her sharpest needles for action.  She looked like a combination of Rambo and Betty White.
> 
> Barry melted into Grammy’s well-loved paisley sofa, “....He doesn’t need to.”

Calm down, Grammy!  You went from zero to 90 at the drop of a hat. Wow!

Also :(

> HFE: Yur just gonna say Mom killed Dad again! U always say that!! U hate her & u hate me 2!!!  I’M NOT IRIS I’LL NEVER B NORMAL ENOUGH 4 U I’M JUST A BOMB U CAN’T DEFUSE

Words carry weight, especially for a writer :(

> Finally, she handed him his messenger bag, “I brought your laptop if you want to write.”

I wasn’t thinking of this when I wrote it, but this reminds me of Nani’s “I brought you some pizza if you’re hungry” line.

> Nora was in jail, Joe put her in jail, and Iris was grieving her uncle before she fled all too soon for college.  Barry was ripped away from everything familiar and safe until Joe’s application to foster him was approved.  The closest thing Barry had to a support system during the interim was writing and Fuzzy.  Folks were more concerned about quelling his _delusions_ than healing his grief.

T_T

> Barry settled into a blanket burrito with Fuzzy and clamped down on his tears.  He fell into a fitful sleep flooded with insults and the responses to them he never dared to speak out loud.  His voice died amidst the roars of his nightmares.  His last line of defense—pushing these memories away—failed just as miserably because they simply pushed back.

Ugh! I forgot how sad I made the ending of this chapter.  Like I said, it’s gets better!  Next week is a new week, folks, I promise.

* * *

So, uh, survey time.  Which of these is your best trait: compassion, hope, perseverance, courage, wisdom, or patience? One per customer.  I think I’m perseverance, which makes me Green.  It’ll make sense once I post a certain chapter.

Also, I’m pretty terrible at naming things, so if y’all have any suggestions for a Pokémon-themed Rogue, feel free to scream them at me; cuz right now, all I’ve got is Pokérogue, Rogueon (Rogue + "eon", the ending for all eevolutions), and (especially creatively) Zorua.  The basis for this character is that Beast Boy in the real version of Teen Titans (the one where they’re FRIENDS and *gasps & faints* HEROES) seems to be able to transform into any animal as long as he has an idea of what it looks like, and that when he was younger, he could only transform into small animals; hence why I’m considering Zorua for a codename instead of its fully-evolved form: Zoroark.  Plus, Zoroark is capable of creating an illusion over an entire area whereas this character can only transform himself.  I tried thinking of Pokémon that have “rogue” in their name, but the only species I came up with is Tyrogue (which might be kinda cute, tbh).  That’s all you get: he’s an OMC who’s new to his powers and a member of the Rogues Gallery.  As I’m not a complete jerk, here is one final clue: Pokémon Black’s Pokédex entry for Zorua.  I specifically chose this entry because it contains words that other entries do not.

> It changes into the forms of others to surprise them. Apparently, it often transforms into a silent child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You survived an HFE commentary! Reward yourself with a cake in a cup :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking time to read this :) enjoy what you do here and everywhere :3


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